66 and fitted them together, and then he bent again and collected all the pieces and the flowers and put the whole lot on top of the desk. Then he sat down on the chair and put his face in his hands. He wouldn't have had that happen for the world. He wouldn't for the world deprive her of anything, or hurt her. The poor thing, she had mLant no harm. He could have left the flowers It wouldn't have killed him, to have left them in the room for the one night. He knew that what he had intended to do was far worse than what he had actually done. He was frightened now at the thought of what he had meant to do. He was more than frightened. He was ternfied. What he had intended- to all intents and purposes he had done it. The breaking of the bowl had awakened him from a prophetic night- mare, and he knew that for the rest of his life he would be stealing down the stairs in thi" sleeping house with the bowl of flowers in his hands. Oh, yes, he would do it. Over and over again he would do it. He knew that. The temp- tation would always be too strong, the temptation or the provocation or what- ever it was. His disappointment in her would always master him. He stood up. He was going to have to go downstairs now anyway to get a glass or something to put the flowers in, because without water they would be dead before morn- Ing. Out on the landing he looked up the short flight of stairs, fi ve steps, that led to the two hedrooms. The doors were closed, and behind them Delia and the children lay s lee pin g, dreaming, far away in themselves, not thinking of him. Their sound sleep turned the house into a refuge, and Martin thought, If this night could only last a week, or two weeks, I might have time to get everything straightened out in my head, and then I would know what to do. . . . If they would only sleep happily like that for a long time, he might find himself able to think again. But the coming of day, a few hours off, rose up in his mind like a towering wave that was all the more awful because it would be suc- ceeded after twenty-four hours by an- other wave, and then hy another. There was no end to the days ahead, and the ones farthest off, years from now, were gathering power while he stood waiting on the landing. It was a merciless pros- pect. There was no way out of this house, which now seemed to contain all of his future as well as a good part of his past. And Delia knew nothing of this. She could never understand his suffering, even if he tried to speak to her about it. He was a lonely man. He had always been a lonely figure, more or less.. but BEST buy Apart from the prestige ap&r J;*ka Of the higher priced whisky's, whiskeyst whiskys, we here at 4.\' consumer testing think you can Kk% spend less dough, i mean sincerely you can believe it when you buy it by the case be.ieve me fm sincere... he was lonelier now than he had ever been. He was proud of his loneliness, and he understood it He knew it was what set him apart. He was a solitary mdn, not an ordinary family man, not at all a dumesticat<::d sort of person. He believed his loneliness came from a deep source in his nature, and that it made him Inore sensitive than other men, and at the same tÏtne stronger-a vision- ary of a kind. He was hard to live with, perhaps, but I)elia's trouble was not that he was hard to live with hut that she did not appreciate him Delia had no understanding whatever of him, and never would have. He had given up hoping for understanding from her. On she went, on and on, "improving" the house and working in the garden and savIng for a new piece of linoleum or a new set of curtains, w dsting her time for the most part, and yet at thIS moment, standing on the landing, Martin felt more like himself than he had for a long time, and he felt not only patience for Delia but pity, be- cause she was so blind and so weak, living along like a little mole, with no idea of what life might he like heyond these four flimsy, commonplace walls. He started down the stairs. T omor- row morning was not gOIng to be so difficult after all. When she came in with the tray he would show her the broken pieces and tell her he had only taken the flowers up to admire them when they fell from his hand. He would show her how he had saved the flowers for her in a glass of water, and he would promise to buy her a new cut- glass howl. He would bring the new bow] home with him tomorrow nIght, and if it didn't cost too much he might even get her a smaller bowl of the same pattern as welL She liked things that matched. She wouldn't question him about what had really happened. She would be very pleased to hear he was going to go to the trouble of getting her a new bowL She would tell him not to bother, but he would insist. She wouldn't mention the anniversary. There would he no awkwardness. Martin knew Della was no more anx- ious for a scene than he was, and In any case they both had the children to con- sider. -MAEVE BRENNAN . onionskin pink n: a light brown that is stronger and slightly redder and darker than alesan, stronger and slightly yel- lower and darker than blush, lighter, stronger, and slightly redder than French beige; and redder, stronger, and slightly lighter than cork.-Webster's Third New International Dzctionary. Bear that in mind!